His reaction makes Adelaide smile, a brief thing that comes out on a short exhalation, like she was holding her breath a little bit. Maybe it's complications that have her holding herself in this way, or maybe it's just that finding Rodeo and Sarge again is so hugely vast and overwhelming a thing, a soul-changing thing, that she doesn't know how to let go just yet, to let it out. It could very well be that she's afraid of it.
Because her relationship with her brother has never been typical. The sibling bond is one of the deeper bonds two humans can share, but that was never the extent of it for these two and Sarge. They were like survivors of a shipwreck life, bobbing in the middle of the violent ocean, holding onto each other as the only things in sight all the way to the horizon. There weren't parents or aunts or uncles or family friends or even a random mentor, there was only ever them, and even then they were never any less than absolutely enough as long as they were together. They orbited each other and occasionally crashed and dented each other, and despite Rodeo's doubt and heavy hearted feelings now, and despite the mistakes they've all made, there has never been a single thing more vital to each than the other.
She didn't know how to be herself without them when they were gone from her life, and so she started holding herself in, keeping her heart to herself and doing instead what needed to be done to make a comfortable life. By the time Thomas found her, she was an elusive little sad-eyed thing that could frustrate just as easily as fascinate. He'd liked the challenge, the exclusivity of her. Still did, really. She could be prickly as hell and ten times as stubborn, but she was never boring. She also never came around to sharing much with him, either.
That only started to thaw slowly, in small places, with Archer, and instantly in one very specific place with Charlie. She's been both glad and wary of it, and she's still feeling wary now of the consequences if she lets some of this out into the open. But she wants to, and that is new, too.
So she smiles again, and places first a clever little dough effigy of a chicken on the larger pie, and then a deft and fancy letter "A" on the smaller one. She reaches over to turn on the oven, and then rests back against countertop, brushing off her hands.
"He's doing... I mean, real good," she says, shaking her head with a little bit of exasperation. "Always does it his way, but I swear... we used to call ourselves cockroaches, back home, 'cause we'd always get through. I had... some real good evidence to be sure he was dead, but I shoulda known." And then that other question, the harder one for her and her swaddled up heart to answer. She shrugs a little. "I'm fucking ecstatic, Arch," she finally says. She hardly ever outright curses, though her "Damn"s and "Goddamn"s are peppered liberally, but it feels right for the intensity here. Her eyes are bright though her expression stays level. Her cheeks flush a bit, she isn't at all used to being so frank about her emotions - or to having such emotions anymore to be frank about. "When I tell you it's complicated, I mean, it's complicated, but I'd take a thousand times worse to be near him for a minute."